Wrong Footed from the Outset
by weezer42
Summary: Stephen/Helen - S2Ep5 scene filler/ender. what might have happened after Stephen returned from the Silurian.


12/2/08

Title: Wrong Footed from the Outset

Author: squeezynz

Rating: PG13

Pairing: Stephen/Helen (refs to Stabby)

Spoilers: S2Ep5 – an alternative ending/scene filler.

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He ached everywhere. His boot might have protected him from the worst of the bugs hold on his leg, but every muscle in his body now felt stretched and twisted like taffy. To make him more uncomfortable, he itched everywhere, the Silurian sand finding every crease and crevice and acting like a rasp against his skin.

They had dropped Taylor back to her step dad's, then Nick had dropped him back at his flat. Neither of them had spoken much, both consumed by thoughts repeating endlessly, their suspicions on who was the traitor and who was to be trusted, all as murky and hidden as ever.

It hurt that Nick no longer trusted him. Hurt far more than he ever expected, ever wanted. They had always been there for each other, always covered each others backs when needed. In some ways, that hadn't really changed, but it was now more automatic, a long held habit, than a conscious choice.

As he trudged down the corridor towards the front door of his flat he remembered Connor's conversation with him that morning – the comment about trust had hit him hard, the younger man oblivious of the effect his simple words had on Stephen, how they brought him up short and made him feel – ashamed. How ironic, Stephen Hart giving out relationship advice.

Trust was what had gone from his and Nick's partnership, friendship – bond. With Helen's continued incursions into his life, it looked as if any hope of repairing things with Nick were doomed from the outset. Yes, he should have said something that first time, but hell, it was all too raw, too unexpected. Helen always stirred up such conflicting and confusing emotions in him, making him wish her to perdition, making him wish she'd pick on someone else and leave him the hell alone.

But like a re-occurring nightmare, she appeared when he least expected it, and he was never prepared, never able to treat her as she deserved. Instead he did as he always did, he listened, patched her up, made her coffee and watched as she inveigled herself like a weed into his life again.

He missed the keyhole on the first try and had to blink to focus on the simple task at hand. The door yielded and he all but fell in, banging it shut behind him. The flat echoed with the crash, the thud of his boots hitting the floor following soon after. A trail of clothes and a discarded watch marked his passage past the bed to the bathroom, his eyes flicking to the mirror propped against the wall, the reflection revealing nobody in the cubicle, the glass no longer fogged.

Shucking his last item of clothing he walked into the shower and twisted the controls, the hissing stream turning hot in seconds, sluicing off the grit and sand, his body almost soaking up the steam like a sponge. Minutes later he was clean, but stood, hands braced against the wall, letting the hot water pummel his shoulders and spine, his head bowed as the water streamed over him. Until you're trapped in a Silurian desert with faint hope of rescue, you really don't appreciate the little luxuries of life, like a hot shower. Unable to stop himself, he grinned, understanding somewhat how Helen must have felt after returning from her trip to the Devonian. He wondered how she'd got on in that period. Hopefully better than they had the period before. Funny that they'd both so recently gone to the Paleozoic era, in the same neighbourhood, so to speak.

Shutting off the water, Stephen stepped out into the bathroom and snagged one of the towels, giving his head a quick rub before an all over rub down. That ended up tossed towards the laundry basket, another towel pulled off the rail to wind around his hips before he padded over to the sink and peered at himself in the fogged mirror. Despite frequently rinsing his mouth in the shower, it still felt full of grit, his toothbrush soon vigorously employed to eject the last evidence that he'd been anywhere near the past or come within a hairsbreadth of being some giant bugs damn delicacy.

Now he felt clean, but more tired than before. His eyes kept sliding shut of their own volition, his head nodding even as he pushed away from the sink and staggered towards the bed. He had enough presence of mind to pull the covers back before collapsing full length, heedless of his still wet hair and damp skin, the sheets feeling like heaven, cool and smooth against his hot body.

He dozed, the bright sunlight still streaming in, keeping him from dropping into a deeper sleep. A dull ache, centered on his ankle, dragged him up to sit on the side of the bed and survey the damage.

The claws hadn't penetrated the leather, but they'd left him with a sore ankle and knotted muscles from the twisting. Despite loud protest from every tendon he owned, he made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of paracetamol, downing two with a glass of water before opening the freezer and pulling out a cold pack. Going back to the bed, he drew off the towel around his waist and wrapped it around the cold back, wrapping them both about the injured ankle after propping it up on the bed. Outside, the light was starting to fade as the early evening started to draw in.

Flopping back on the pillows, Stephen watched the long shadows of light traverse the ceiling, turning from white to pale gold to orange until the building next door cut the sunset off from his windows.

The world was turning on another cycle, unaware and uncaring of his problems. Sighing, he twisted until he was more comfortable, the cold pack still wrapped about his lower leg, and closed his eyes.

Jumbled images of Nick and Taylor, the little girl they'd laughingly set out to rescue, and had almost ended up having to rescue them instead. His mind skittered away from confronting what had happened when the creature had pulled him under the sand, Nick's face looking anguished and desperate, Taylor's screams, the relentless pull on his legs. Then darkness, and suffocating grit, his last breath tasting of sand and heat as the creature dragged him through a pseudo tunnel towards its lair. Seconds or hours later he'd been hauled out of the sand, upside down, dangling from the claws of a behemoth, swung around and battered by clacking pincers and chattering mandibles. As nightmares went, that had been one of the worst, the fear that the bug would dive once more into the sand and drag him down with it, nothing and nobody able to help him.

He shuddered and buried his face in the pillows to try and shut out the fear that clawed at his insides.

He must have slept, his next awareness being of someone making the side of the bed dip near to his hip and a hand lightly caressing his exposed flank.

Helen was furious. The team had failed utterly, the whole purpose of their visit to the Silurian for naught. Leek was little more help, his effectiveness severely curtailed by Lester ordering a complete inquest into the whole anomaly detector failure. There was also the small matter of weapons missing from the armory and hi-tech equipment unaccounted for. Leek had hoped they would remain unaccounted for much longer, but he'd underestimated Lester's interest in such matters, and now was paying the penalty.

It was sloppy, and Helen had never suffered fools gladly. Leek had at least had the good sense to forward Nick's report, such as it was. Her husband had never been the one for paperwork, and Stephen, although thorough when he got around to completing it, was almost as bad. Of course, she had viewed the footage garnered from the camera hard drive, and was fascinated to learn, through Nick, that one of the mercenaries had survived. A shame the man had been eaten by a bug.

She's also read the hacked reports from the lizard girl, and geek boy laptops, neither one of them aware of the back door access to their hard drive. Helen had thought the geeky one would have been hot on that, but apparently he was a clueless as the other one. Certainly his files on all things reptilian had proved an invaluable resource, providing all known knowledge for her to use in her frequent trips to the past.

Snapping shut her own lap top, she twisted the key in the ignition and listened to the engine purr before pulling out of the car park and heading towards the center of town. It was time she paid dear Stephen another visit, see how her little acorns were doing and if they'd sprouted their tendrils of doubt and paranoia into his theories. She'd been deliberately obtuse and misleading, letting Stephen's own doubts and worries fill in the blanks. That he'd fixated on Lester was no surprise, in fact exactly as she hoped.

Poor Stephen, such a passionate soul, and so dedicated to the truth, but unable to be truthful to himself. She had counted on his guilt that he'd not want to embroil Nick again, keeping the knowledge of her visits a secret, not because she asked him to, but because he felt he had to protect his friend. Such misguided loyalty made him so easy to control and manipulate. All it needed was a hint dropped here, a suggestion there, it was almost child's play.

Only Stephen was no child, and Helen was feeling in need of some physical relief. A kiss snatched from reluctant lips was a poor substitute for a good shag. And Stephen was definitely a good shag.

The flat was dark, but even without light, it was hardly difficult to determine who was being so brazen with her hands. He moistened his lips.

"Helen." No inflection, not a query or a question, but a statement of fact.

"You were expecting someone else?" Her seductive purr combined with her wandering hand was doing unwanted things to his body.

"I wasn't expecting anyone. What do you want? I'm tired."

"And naked. When did you start sleeping in the nude?"

"Go to hell and get you hands off me." Kicking off the cold pack and towel, he slid his legs under the duvet and covered himself from the waist down.

Helen had snatched her hand back when he moved, and now sat pouting on the side of the bed.

"Oh come on Stephen, there's no need to be coy...there was a time when I knew every luscious inch of your body, as you did mine."

"History Helen. We've all grown older since then." It came out almost as a snarl, a verbal slap to keep her at bay. She interpreted it as his way of holding her off, words the only defense against his body remembering what they had done together so long ago. Time to step up her attack against his crumbling defenses.

"Not that long ago. I kissed you this morning and you didn't exactly push me away then." As she spoke, she started to peel of her outer clothes, dropping them silently to the floor. Stephen remained where he was, his lightly furred torso exposed to the uncertain light, shadows playing across muscle and bone as he breathed.

"You took me by surprise. Won't happen again."

"I see. So you don't remember all those nights together – my hands, your mouth..." She unclipped her bra and dropped that to the pile on the floor, clad now in nothing but her knickers. She couldn't see his eyes, but his head was still turned towards her now, and she was sure she had his undivided attention. Lifting the covers she slid like a coiled serpent into his bed, the sheets whispering against her skin, the heat from his body still lingering as she slid closer. His head slowly turned away from her now, as if he was steeling himself, a muscle flicking constantly in his jaw.

"I know you do remember, your body tells me it does." She felt the heat of his flesh against hers, the silk of his skin teasing and tantalising her senses, his smell so familiar but also new, fresh and intoxicating.

Stephen was having difficulty breathing, her voice and mere presence enough to flood him with memories of their time spent together. Certainly his body remembered, and he fleetingly felt a surge of disgust that even now, knowing what he did, his reactions were so predictable. Where was his self control, his reluctance to repeat what had gone before, why was he letting it happen again?

Her mouth was suddenly on his, her tongue taking his gasp of surprise as surrender, her hands everywhere at once, his own trying vainly to keep her at bay, but at the same time drawing her closer as she slid around to sit on him and press him back against the pillows.

"You can sleep later Stephen, but right now...I need this, and you.." She shifted, making him hiss as she ground herself against him. "You need this too..."

He was tired. Tired of fighting her, of fighting what was happening, of fighting for what he couldn't have – ever.

In silence he let her do what she always did – his gorgon, his seductress, his nemesis – take what she wanted, maybe then she'd leave him alone.

Helen looked back at the rumpled bed and did up the last button before slamming her knife back in it's scabbard. Stephen lay sprawled across the bed, in almost the position she'd found him in, his body all planes and highlights, broad shoulders and dark head. The light from the kitchen cast shadows that hinted at the strength of his arms, the sinews bunched across the lean back and long legs.

He really had been tired, poor baby. Her own needs gratified in full, while she wasn't even sure he'd had a climax before returning once more to the land of nod. Lifting a shoulder, she shrugged. Time she was gone. She didn't have any to spare for sentiment, she had an agenda.

Kissing the palm of her hand, she blew Stephen a kiss before turning to leave the flat as quietly, and stealthily as she'd come. She'd already checked that all the camera's were still in place, recording and spying on every moment he spent in the flat. Stephen had no idea just how much was known about his so called private life, from the slow progress of the redecorating, to how many press ups he did before he went running. She even knew of his unrequited feelings for the silly blonde bit currently shacked up with the geek. Helen had seen the photo of Abby kept safe in a drawer and taken out on occasion. He might think he kept it well hidden from them all, but Helen knew of it, as did others, and it would come in useful one day.

For now, Helen had an anomaly to catch and double dealings to arrange. Stephen could sleep in peace for now, she'd be back.

And he'd be waiting for her.


End file.
